


The Eighth Day of Christmas

by ThatwasJustaDream



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, Holiday Fic Exchange, M/M, New Year's Fluff, Tumblr: marveysecretsanta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8858620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/pseuds/ThatwasJustaDream
Summary: Mike is seeing Harvey through new eyes this holiday season. In some ways, Harvey as a lover isn’t all that different from Harvey as his colleague and friend – but there are surprises.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [butterflycell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflycell/gifts).



> A big thank you to naias for the beta-read and helpful input. This fic is far and away better than it would have been without her help. Any remaining errors or failings in it are entirely my fault. And a very happy holidays to butterflycell (Jenni), who asked for ‘the boys being cute and sleepy in bed’ and/or ‘the boys arguing about the laws of physics in relation to Thor’s hammer and whether or not it would move in a car if Thor wasn’t holding it.” I hope this hits the mark.

Mike swatted at it; on his side, more than half asleep, and barely conscious enough to wonder how a fly had even made it into the pristine confines of Harvey’s condo in the dead of winter.

“Geesh…”

It was right back at him, tickling his eyebrow. He waved a hand again in the blue-grey, eyes opening a few millimeters to confirm it wasn’t quite dawn. Then they fell closed, his body sinking back into the mattress - so relieved to realize there were hours left to rest and not minutes.

“Oh… my _God_.” 

Yep, again; but now with a pattern to the tickle, a serpentine tracing over the stubble on his chin and cheek that was too elaborate for a fly to make. Mike heard a snort, and the … _feather_ Harvey had been tormenting him with from his own bed pillows teased relentlessly at Mike’s nostrils.

“What are you, twelve?” Mike rasped.

“I tried to resist…Grumpy,” Harvey said, grunting and chuckling, retreating more to his side of the bed when Mike flipped over like an angry fish on a line, flailing at him. “But you were moving like you might be waking up and ….I’m really looking forward to today. You know? Sharing it.”

“I do know," Mike stared up at him, hoping his eyes conveyed that he could happily either kiss him or strangle him right now and the next few moments would dictate his decision. "I am, too. But I spelled out my personal philosophy about weekend and holiday mornings to you - and I wasn't kidding. Do I need to write it out in memo form?"

“Sure. Can't hurt. I'll text you one back on the benefits of consistent sleep and wakeup times.”

“Harvey...." Mike flipped away from him, again. “One more hour. Please?"

There was another sound of gentle derision, but the mattress shifted; Harvey sliding down next to him and, thank God, going silent.

Mike knew he was still tired, because despite the extended interruption it was very easy to return to that place that felt soooo good; the comforter over them warm but not too warm, Harvey’s arm sliding under it to pull him close. He settled into the nook by Harvey’s shoulder and tumbled thankfully back into sweet oblivion.

~*~

If you had told him he’d wake up next to Harvey ever let alone repeatedly? He’d wondered, of course, what it would be like, the two of them together. But he never dwelt on it, since the odds felt a kind of ‘asteroids hitting the earth tomorrow at Noon’ type of slender.

And it might not have happened; even after prison, and Harvey moving heaven and earth to get him free. It still wouldn’t have, if Rachel hadn’t come home one night after Thanksgiving and told him she’d lost ‘them’ and couldn’t get it back again. Mike had put on his shoes, grabbed a jacket, and walked around for two hours to find himself in front of Harvey’s building.

“Oh…no,” Mike would never forget the look on Harvey’s face – hurt with a dose of royally pissed off for him, too. “I was afraid of this…"

He’d always thought Harvey loved him for what Mike could do for him, and that Rachel loved him one hundred percent for himself.  But standing there, Harvey’s hand on his shoulder, Mike realized he’d had it backward the whole damn time.

~*~

“There you are…” Mike mouthed the words around a deeply content yawn, stretching his arms and legs, rolling slightly on the mattress as he worked his body fully awake. “Wondered if you gave up on me and went for a run?”

Amazing what ninety more minutes of sleep could do; he felt fantastic. 

“Uh-uh, don’t get up. Stay where you are,” Mike heard Harvey say, as Mike tugged up his boxers and threw his legs over the side of the bed.  “I didn’t go to this unprecedented level of effort to have to turn back to the kitchen.”

Harvey was in sweatpants and a t-shirt, carrying a large tray in both hands. Mike could see a smaller tray stacked on top of it with mugs of coffee, a bowl and a plate, and could smell several delicious things. He caught another scent - Harvey’s favorite soap - as Harvey set it all on his nightstand and leaned in for a kiss and to hand him a cup of coffee.

“What did I do to rate breakfast in bed?” Mike scooted, got his bare back against the headboard as quickly as he could without spilling it.

“You went along with my plan for last night. I know it wasn’t the most exciting option.”

Harvey, apparently, wasn’t a big fan of counting down with the masses; said something about it being amateur night even at the best restaurants and clubs. Mike had been honest about being disappointed, but then he saw Harvey’s idea of them celebrating quietly at home: The apartment in elegant darkness, lit by dozens of softly flickering electronic candles; a linen-covered table set with crystal and silver next to his floor-to-ceiling windows with the city lights spread out below them; a playlist of beautiful music that never intruded but made it feel like they were somewhere far away.

Harvey had hired an actual damn chef and sous-chef, and enlisted his favorite wine shop to send in a selection to pair with the six-course tasting menu. After dinner they bundled up in sweaters and coats to share coffee, port, and holiday-quality cigars on Harvey's deck, then went to the roof to stand with a handful of his neighbors and watch the fireworks. You could see them from all directions; downtown, East Side, even faint bursts over the sky in New Jersey miles away.

Enjoying that together - standing with Harvey wrapped around him, Harvey’s breath warm on his temple …

“You know…it ended up being amazing,” Mike said. "More memorable than anything I had in mind. Did I ever say thank you?"

"I recall a very enjoyable make out session once we were alone on the roof," Harvey maneuvered the smaller tray toward Mike’s waiting lap, handing it off to him. "Wasn't that a 'thank you?"

“Partly, it was. Also I was horny. Bacon!” Mike gave a small fist pump, examining his breakfast feast. “I knew I smelled bacon.”

“And eggs. Oatmeal." Harvey got back in bed, picking up his own coffee. “And don’t get used to it. I wasn’t kidding when I said this is unprecedented.”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“I ate while I cooked.”

Harvey had found the remote and was firing up iTunes on his bedroom TV – the big, 4K one Mike had given him for the holidays.

“I thought you wanted to get out of the apartment,” Mike said around a sip of coffee. “Some holiday tradition, or something, that you wanted to do?”

“There’s no rush. Maybe this is supposed to become a new part of it. And how often do we get to lie around and do nothing?”

Mike thought about pointing out he had literally no frame of reference since they’d only been together for twenty-three days, but then he let the moment pass.

“That one,” he waved generally at the menu on the screen with a piece of bacon before biting into it. “Let’s watch that one. Have you seen it yet?”

“No,” Harvey hit play and put his coffee down, arranging pillows to stretch back out on. “But I think I’m about to….”

-*-

“So, if Thor forgets Moljnir on the floor of a taxi cab can the cabbie take another fare?” Mike asked. “Or is he screwed? Would the cab just sit there….stuck?”

“Of course it wouldn’t,” Harvey said. “He could drive it.”

Mike both felt and heard the words; Harvey’s was lying with a cheek on Mike’s belly just below his ribs – had slid there sometime between the opening credits and this scene in Avengers Tower, with the gang attempting to pick up Thor’s hammer.

“I’ve gotta go with no, he can’t,” Mike reached to touch Harvey’s fluffy, weekend hair and run fingers through it. “The cab sits there - wheels spinning until it digs into the pavement and chunks of cement fly because the cab isn’t worthy.”

“I'll give you points for a cinematic imagination,” Harvey said. “But the cab’s not sentient, so it doesn’t have to be worthy. It just has to be a cab.”

“Why does that matter?”

“It’s simple physics. The hammer can only be an efficient tool if it interacts with the world in an efficient way. Buildings expand and contract slightly through the day, but you don’t see it punching through the floor or floating above the carpet, right?”

“I think that’s a jump in logic,” Mike dug for a comeback. “Plus, you’re talking millimeters. Cabs…that’s miles.”

“And didn’t Thor fly in a …spaceship. Plane? Something? With it? That didn't seem to be a problem. He must have set it down at some damn point - and they didn't crash, did they? They're still around for the sequel."

“Do you think we know anyone worthy of picking up Moljinor?” Mike asked.

“All right...” Harvey lifted and turned his head to give Mike a look.  “Now? You’re just fishing for a compliment.”

“Not fishing,” Mike stopped petting his hair and gave a few strands a good tug. “Changing the subject.”

“Ow. Fucker.” Harvey said, but he didn’t move.

They stayed pretty much exactly that way until the credits rolled. Mike knew Harvey had dozed off at least twice; was snoring ever so slightly next to him as he fished up the remote and turned off the TV.

He managed to extricate himself, and stood watching him sleep for a minute. Harvey was so different like this; with his face and body relaxed and undefended, he looked five years younger. And vulnerable - although Mike knew Harvey would give him entire rafts of shit if he ever made the mistake of telling him that.

He leaned in and planted a kiss by Harvey’s eyebrow, which failed rouse him at all; another discovery he'd made in these few days - that Harvey slept like a rock.

Then he hit the shower. It was time to get going.

-*-

Going from friends to lovers hadn’t been as simple as Mike having an epiphany the day of his breakup. First, he’d had to pull the truth out of Harvey – confronting him when he came by the Airbnb Mike was renting, now, to pressure Mike for a decision about the job offer.

_When you say you miss working with me, you mean you miss me. You want me. It’s not about work, Harvey…not anymore._

_Don’t flatter yourself. If I wanted you, then you would have known long before now._

_Bullshit. You do, and I_ have _known it long before now._

_Stop it, Mike. I mean it._

_Say it. You’re scared._

_THAT is bullshit._

_You’re scared and you’re not sure it’s worth the risk of maybe losing me. Say it!_

Harvey had said it  - shouted it, eventually, when Mike made it clear he wasn’t backing down. And then, because he was Harvey, he had retreated.

It took Mike days and another epiphany to get Harvey to respond to his text messages.

_Tell your door guy to let me in._

_What in the hell are you doing at my place?_

_Waiting for you. I’ll order food. When you get home we will eat and talk about everything like grownups._

But when Harvey got home there was no dinner waiting – only Mike in his living room dressed like dessert: Long, black silk sleep pants barely fastened to his hips; a super soft, oversized blue shirt  with tails that emphasized the blue in his eyes -  unbuttoned, artfully half open and  sleeves rolled up. His hair was bed-head personified, and he’d invested in cologne that the store clerk assured him smelled like ‘eau de hell, yes…’

Harvey had stopped flat in his own hallway; looked stunned, almost like he might turn and leave his own damn place and then…

_"Fuck…"_

Harvey said it like a goodbye to the last of his willpower.

Mike braced to be devoured, but it was surprise number one - how not like that it was. How slowly Harvey had walked over to him, his eyes taking Mike in. How gently Harvey had touched and kissed him and …well, from _there_ …yeah, the rest had been pretty simple so far.

-*-

“Cookies?” Mike reached into the plain white bakery bag and grabbed one with his free hand. “Your tradition is buying cookies and coffee and going for a walk? Seems pretty....bare bones.”

“Not cookies,” Harvey said. “Jelly donut macarons. Once a year. Grab me one.”

They each had a coffee in hand, and Harvey had the bag in his fingers which made it tricky. Mike held his own macaron in his teeth and reached in for one, holding it up toward Harvey’s mouth in his left hand.

The urge was too strong, though; as Harvey reached Mike pulled it away. The first time got him an eye roll full of ‘bitch, do not - that's my move’.  A second time and Harvey ducked in at him, as if to bite at the treat still in Mike’s grinning teeth.

“Play nice,” Harvey said when Mike jumped away, snorting around a mouth now very full of macaron. “I made you breakfast in bed.”

Mike fed him the macaron, and they walked in silence for a bit.

It was colder even than the night before. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground and some icy patches, so they both had long coats and walking shoes with good treads on them.  Harvey steered them north and west from his apartment: Mike didn’t ask where they were going as they headed north at Fifth Avenue, walking along Central Park and dipping into the park itself here and there where it stayed close to the street.

It was only three p.m., but it was going to get dusky out soon. Mike felt a specific kind of melancholy at the thought of it.

“It’s back to reality tomorrow,” he said as Harvey aimed them across the Avenue again, toward the side with the storefronts.  “I could use another day like this.”

“I know,” Harvey pushed what was left of the bag of macarons into his pocket and set an arm over Mike’s shoulder as they walked, as if he'd heard it in Mike's voice. “I could too.”

It was about the time they were standing in front of the holiday display at Tiffany’s that Mike got what was happening: That his big, tough boyfriend’s tradition for this day was walking up Fifth Avenue and watching people enjoy the soon-to-be dismantled holiday window displays.

“I haven’t seen these since I was a kid,” Mike said, feeling a flicker of nostalgia as they walked past Sak’s and its extra-elaborate “Land of 1,000 Delights” theme. "I forgot how over-the-top they are. They're like...baroque, aren't they? Pop art."

“I find it’s…. I don’t know….a hopeful place to start the year," Harvey said, and Mike couldn’t help but notice Harvey people watching as much as window watching. "Kind of adds some light to one of the shortest days.”

Almost on cue, the every-ten-minute light show extravaganza started. There was a loud ‘oooh’ from the crowd and kids cheering, jumping up and down in booted feet, waving puffy-coated arms with excitement.  Harvey chuckled at them, and Mike couldn’t not smile at that as they watched the lights spin and dance and paint the town red and blue and silver and gold.

-*-

“You need to decide soon,” Harvey said on the cab ride home, holding Mike’s hand.

His voice was so soft and contemplative that it took a second for the words to register.

“I do?” Mike asked, turning back from watching the city roll by. “Are you putting the squeeze on me for an answer?”

Harvey smiled, but faintly.

“I know you needed a few weeks to deal with …everything. But for your own sake you need to have a focus. People like us do.”

“I will,” Mike said. “This week. I have a couple of options to look at and then I’ll decide.”

“Good,” Harvey said.

-*-

Mike felt the need for a second shower that night, mostly to warm his chilled bones. Happily, he didn’t have to take it alone. The additional bonus: A long walk and the warm water made it easy to crash, even though they’d slept in so late.

Once they got into bed, Mike let Harvey maneuver them into their increasingly-usual spoon.

“Hey…” Mike lifted his head from the pillow. “Whatever I decide? We’re going to be okay. You know that, right? It’s our year.”

“You think so?” Harvey didn’t lift up; asked it in a tone both hopeful and ….what? Wistful. Like it was all too easy for Harvey to imagine things not going that way.

“I know it. We’re going to make sure of it - both of us.”

Mike felt a kiss against the back of his head, and something even better; Harvey relaxing deeply, warm and solid behind him.

"Happy New Year, rookie.”

“Happy New Year, Harvey.”


End file.
